Tangled Webs
by Sloane Ranger
Summary: When a teenage girl is kidnapped and murdered, Reece and Finch find themselves deeply and personally involved in the case; with possible far reaching implications for the future of their work and partnership.
1. Chapter 1

Apologies to everyone for yet another Law and Order:SVU crossover. You must think I'm fixated on it. I'm not, really, I'm not, it's just that it was the best fit for the story I wanted to write. please let me know what you think. Thanks.

**Tangled Webs**

**Detective Joss Carter's POV**

Carter tried to disguise her urgency as she strode through the SVU squad-room. She acknowledged the greetings of those detectives who recognised her but did not stop. She was here to meet and talk with only one person and that meeting could not be delayed.

"Carter, over here."

A familiar female voice carried across the room. Carter saw that its owner was standing in front of what appeared to be a window but what was actually, Joss knew, a one-way mirror allowing those outside to see into the interrogation room beyond without being seen themselves. Hiding her relief, Carter headed towards where Detective Olivia Benson was standing.

"Olivia. It's been a while." Carter's eyes flickered over the other female detective's shoulder, trying to see into the interrogation room, but her line of sight was blocked by the other woman. The smile she gave her colleague, however, was genuine. She and Olivia had never worked together but they both went back to the time when the number of female detectives in the NYPD could be counted on the fingers of both hands and that formed a bond.

Olivia Benson smiled back, just as genuinely. "Too long." She replied. "They're keeping you busy over at the Homicide Task Force and working with the Feds as well."

Carter shrugged. "No more busy than you people in sex crimes and you've had your moments with the Fee bees too from what I hear." She said. "So …our guy?"

Olivia took a half step to her side allowing Carter to see into the room beyond. What she saw did not surprise her but that did not stop her heart from sinking all the same. She had been hoping against hope that it was all a gigantic mix up. The man sitting there, being harangued by two of New York's finest was all too well known to her. The unnaturally erect posture, the round rimmed glasses, with their thick lenses, the faded check shirt and shapeless mousy coloured cardigan. There was no doubt that the SVU were holding Norman Burdett, alias Harold Finch, alias Harold Wren, alias …, well, who knew?

She watched as a heavily built black detective with a shaved head and a younger Hispanic interrogated the man and swallowed, convulsively. Underneath his unassuming exterior, she knew Finch had a core of steel and a genius level intellect so they were unlikely to break him or trick him but the longer they held him, the longer they dug into "Norman Burdett's" life and background, the more chance there was of them finding something that didn't add up, not to mention that, of his other identities, Harold Wren, at least, had a separate life and job and would, presumably, be reported missing if he didn't turn up for work at Universal Heritage Insurance when expected. If that happened and someone were to identify that Harold Wren, Insurance Underwriter, and Norman Burdett, Paralegal, were actually one and the same man, everything could unravel for Harold Finch very fast.

_**60 minutes earlier**_

_Her cell rang and she glanced down at the caller ID…number unrecognised, so probably John or Finch. She put the cell to her ear._

"_Yes?"_

"_Finch is in trouble." The voice was as soft and calm as usual but with an underlying urgency._

_She tensed at the words, her mind flicking back to the time the computer expert had been kidnapped. She glanced across the squad room and caught Fusco's eye. He put down the sheaf of crime scene photographs he had been studying and lumbered across the room towards her._

"_John." She said out loud to confirm her caller's identity to her partner. She kept her voice steady. "What sort?" She asked._

"_Cop trouble. He's been taken to SVU for questioning."_

"_How do you know?"_

"_I was on the phone with him. I heard his doorbell ring. He kept the line open while he went to check who it was. He said that they were flashing badges and it would be suspicious if he didn't answer. I heard two voices, a man and a woman over his phone. They identified themselves as SVU cops and asked him to come to the precinct with them to answer some questions about the abduction and murder of a neighbourhood girl. That was four hours ago. He's still there. They consider him a suspect." _

"_This isn't connected to something you're involved in?"_

"_No."_

"_What can Fusco and I do?"_

"_He's kept the line open but sound quality is poor so I'm not getting the full picture. I need you to insert yourself into the investigation and find out what's going on. What evidence they think they have on him."_

_Carter frowned, briefly. "I can try, John, but I'll need some sort of reason for butting in."_

_The voice on the other end became even more urgent. "Find one. His cell battery won't last forever and we need to keep eyes on him."_

"_Given that this is Harold Finch we're talking about, what name was he using?"_

"_Burdett. Oh, and tell Lionel to meet me at the Burdett address. He and I can check what's happening there and work the kidnap/murder angle."_

"_OK." The call ended and she quickly briefed Fusco on the situation. Her partner nodded and disappeared off, leaving her to solve the problem of how she was going to get herself involved with the SVU investigation. With a sigh, she thought she might as well confirm that their man was actually being held. She had typed the first two letters of Finch's alias into the computer before she snatched her hands back and deleted the entry with one click of her mouse. This thing could go south very quickly and, if it did, someone from I.A.D. might become interested at the timing of her sudden resurgence of interest in "Burdett". Not for the first time she cursed the ridiculous circumstances that John and Finch's activities put her in. She would have to do this the slow way. She sighed as she opened the NYPD databases and began paging through reports and requests for information as fast as she dared. She came across what she was looking for several, frustrating, minutes later – a report from SVU that they were interrogating one Norman Burdett, a suspect in the kidnapping and murder of Kirsty Mangano, a sixteen year old high school student._

_OK, so she'd confirmed what she already knew. Now, how to get her foot in the door? Inspiration hit her. She checked the primary on the case and noted it was Olivia Benson, better and better. Carter picked up the land line phone and dialled an internal number._

"_Olivia, its Joss Carter. I've been checking the reports and I see that you're holding Norman Burdett as a suspect in a kidnap/murder. It's not a common name and I was wondering if it's the same guy who was a witness in one of my open cases, a robbery at evidence lock-up. What does he look like? Short, wears glasses, walks with a limp...Yeah he sounds like the same guy. I always thought he wasn't telling me everything he knew. He seemed like a very meek guy when I interviewed him. The sort who's be very easy to intimidate. I always wondered if they'd threatened him to keep him quiet. Yeah, this could give me some leverage. Sure, I'll come over; maybe we can help each other."_

_End Flashback_

"So, what can you tell me about Mr. Burdett and his involvement in this robbery?" Olivia asked.

With an effort Carter pulled her mind back to the present. "He's a paralegal. He was present at lock-up researching a case when four armed and masked men burst in and held him and the staff at gunpoint while they stole a single piece of evidence relating to an old case. Two of the thieves ended up dead, killed by an unknown shooter but the other two got away. A while later, the stolen evidence, a kitchen knife, ended up stuck in a hit man. It was the same knife he was alleged to have used to kill Marlene Elias."

"Carl Elias' mother?" Olivia's voice betrayed her shock. As Carter nodded, she glanced into the interview room, towards the man being harangued by her colleagues. "If he knows something he's not telling you, maybe its understandable." she mused, "There are plenty of gangsta's out there who would keep their mouths shut as well."

Carter nodded. "But you can see why I'm interested. What do you have on him?"

Olivia collected her thoughts. "Kirsty Mangano was found dead by the city garbage disposal department at 0617 this morning. Her body had been left out in the street covered by garbage bags. They lifted the bags to throw them on the truck and exposed her body. ME says she'd been dead for six to seven hours, cause of death was strangulation. We're searching the area and Burdett's house for whatever was used as a ligature. Parents said they thought she was sleeping over with a friend, friend says Kirsty got a text and cried off at the last minute. She doesn't know who the text was from but Kirsty had been hinting that she was seeing an older man for a coupla weeks now."

"Was she raped?" Carter asked.

"She'd had sex a short time before she died but the jury's out on whether or not it was rape or consensual – in as far as a sixteen year old can legally consent."

"So, rape or statutory rape." Carter mused. "What pointed you towards Burdett?"

"She was found round the corner from his house and the trash she was buried under came from there. Also, he seems to fit what little we know and can guess about the older boyfriend and the circumstances surrounding the murder, in that he's an older single man living alone. Add to that, a witness came forward saying he saw Burdett talking with Kirsty on a number of occasions, the last time only a few hours before her death. If he didn't kill her he may be the last person to see her alive."

Carter had a brief flash of gallows humour as she wondered at the amount of garbage Finch seemed to have accumulated in this, part-time, identity. Perhaps he had it specially made-up for him? Aloud she said, "Seems a bit thin."

Olivia nodded. "The real reason we brought him in was to avoid a riot. Our witness shouted his mouth off in front of the entire neighbourhood and they were already getting out the tar and feathers when we went round to pick him up. We either need to prove he's the doer or completely exonerate him. If we let him go while the mob is still after his blood, the next case you guys in Homicide pick up could involve him as the victim."

Carter glanced back into the interrogation room. _"Well Finch, it looks like another of your cover identities just got burned." _She thought. Aloud, she said, "How are your guys doing in there?"

Olivia turned up the audio and they tuned into the on-going interrogation.

T.B.C.


	2. Chapter 2

**Tangled Webs**

**Chapter 2**

**Finch's P.O.V.**

**Five hours earlier**

"_Mrs Klymchuk is safety back at her residential care home and her son couldn't wait to confess his plan to murder her for the insurance money after you spoke so…err…firmly to him. He's currently in the prison ward at Bellevue, where he's likely to remain for some time." _

_The man known to John Reese as Harold Finch used his free hand to scatter the stack of magazines across the occasional table. He studied the cushion in the armchair and, satisfied that it retained that just sat on look, moved on. He had slept in the house and lived Norman Burdett's life for two days and it was time to maintain the fiction of one of his other identities. _

"_No, there's no new number as yet, Mr Reese. I'll let you know when one comes in. In the meantime, why don't you take some time out? Take Bear for a walk, go to a …"_

_The doorbell interrupted any further suggestions._

"_Now, who could that be? No, I'm not expecting anyone. Hold on."_

_Finch limped towards the street door and opened it on the chain displaying as little of his body as possible. Since being kidnapped his already high level of paranoia had kicked into overdrive; besides, such precautions would be in character for the mild and inoffensive Norman Burdett. _

"_Mr Burdett? Police. Can we speak to you please?" _

_The gold shield looked genuine and Finch felt his heart beating faster. He took a deep breath to control it and began to analyse the situation. Norman Burdett was a law abiding citizen, he had a job, paid his taxes, he didn't even own a car. There was no way the police, outside of Carter and Fusco, could link Norman Burdett to the extra legal activities of the 'Man in a Suit'. Why then did they want to speak to him?_

"_Yes, just one minute please Detective." He closed the door._

"_Harold, be careful." Mr Reese's voice came over the cell, his tone concerned._

"_It's probably just a neighbourhood canvas, John." Finch responded. "Or, possibly they want to re-interview Burdett yet again about the evidence locker heist. If they had any evidence, or even suspicion, that Burdett is connected to you in some way, they'd have knocked the door down and I'd staring at a lot of guys in body armour carrying big guns. It would look suspicious if I don't co-operate. I'll keep the line open." _

_He dropped the cell into the baggy pocket of his pants and checked that its outline did not show, aware that the microphone would pick up any conversation and then released the chain, opening the door wide. Standing outside were an attractive female detective and a handsome Hispanic man. The woman smiled._

"_Mr Burdett, I'm Detective Benson and this is Detective Amaro, Special Victims Unit. Can we come in please?"_

_Finch wondered what sex crimes wanted with the innocuous Norman Burdett but aloud he said. "Of course, Detectives." He stood aside to let them enter. There was nothing in the house that did not fit with the Burdett identity. "This way." He led them into the sitting room, where he had entertained Detective Carter several months earlier and gestured towards the sofa._

"_Please sit down." He invited them._

"_Thank you, but hopefully we won't take up much of your time." The female detective – Benson, replied._

_Finch noticed, with increasing unease, the way both detectives' eyes flickered around the room, taking everything in. _

"_Well, how can I help you?" he asked, keeping his voice calm_

_The Hispanic detective took up the conversation. "Do you know a girl named Kirsty Mangano?"_

"_Yes. She lives in the neighbourhood. We've talked on several occasions. She knows I'm a paralegal at Marmostein Ribner and she wants to become a legal secretary after she graduates. I offered her advice on the qualifications and experience she would require." Finch felt his shoulders knot with tension. He could think of only one reason why Special Victims Unit detectives would be asking him about Kirsty. He briefly wondered if his response was too detailed, but decided that this would be characteristic of the pedantic Norman Burdett. _

_His suspicions were confirmed when Detective Benson asked him the next question. "When did you see her last?"_

_Finch considered. "At about ten o'clock last night. I was on my way out and we spoke briefly as we passed each other on the street." _

_It was time to ask some questions of his own. "Look, Detectives, can I ask what this is about? Has something happened to Kirsty?"_

"_She's been murdered and her body dumped in your trash." The male Detective, Amaro's- response was deliberately brutal, designed to obtain an emotional response._

_Finch's shock was genuine. His face went slack and he blinked several times behind his thick glasses._

"_Where were you, Mr Burdett, between say ten and two last night?" Detective Benson took up the questioning again._

"_I …err…I was out. As I said, I ran into Kirsty as I was leaving and I didn't get back here until after two." He had actually been at the Library providing tech support to Mr Reese while they desperately searched for the location where her homicidal son had taken Mrs Klymchuk. He had only left it to see her back safely to her care home while his partner dealt with the son. He had returned to the Library after seeing their number settled in to close up the case and see that Bear's water bowl was filled before taking a cab home. Unfortunately, the only part of these activities he could share with the detectives was the cab ride. Their follow up questions were inevitable._

"_So, where did you go? Can anyone verify your whereabouts?"_

"_I don't think so. I'm a very private person." In his imagination he could hear John's stifled laugh at that statement. It was time to go on the attack. "Look, Detectives, if you're asking me for an alibi, I'm afraid I don't have one. I didn't know I'd need one."_

_The shock had worn off and his mind was starting to work again with cold precision. He felt profound sadness at the loss of yet another human life; another person he had known who he hadn't been able to save. And that raised another question. The Machine had not given Kirsty's number. That meant that her killing had been unpremeditated. There was an alternative explanation, that the virus Kara Stanton had uploaded onto the web was beginning to have an effect on the Machine, but he would have expected some minor glitches to occur before such a massive failure. _

"_So, where did you go?" Amara pressed him. "Maybe we can find someone who saw you. Just so we can eliminate you from our enquiries."_

_Harold though quickly. He didn't want to be too specific about his activities earlier in the night until he could get to the Library and create a suitable electronic trail. "I had something to eat at an all night diner. I'd missed dinner as I was researching a case. Then I took a walk, I found myself near Madison Square Park and took a cab back home. You can, presumably, verify that, at least, from the cab company."_

"_That's a two hour walk from here. You walked that distance…at night?" Amaro's voice was thick with disbelief as he took in 'Burdett's' obvious disability._

_Finch bit back the surge of anger he felt as he tapped his leg. "My doctor recommends that I exercise this regularly." He said calmly, then because he couldn't help himself. "Besides, isn't this the City that Never Sleeps?" _

_Benson opened her mouth but her follow up question was never asked as the sound of something hard hitting glass resounded through the house. Amaro cursed and dived out of the room. He came back shortly, followed by a uniformed officer._

"_There's a lot of very angry people heading this way." He reported. "After we left the crime scene our wit mouthed off about Mr Burdett here talking to Kirsty and they've decided he must have killed her."_

_Detective Benson turned towards Finch. "Mr Burdett, for your own safety, I think we should finish this at the precinct."_

_Finch considered; it was possible that this was an elaborate ruse to persuade him to go with them but the crash of another window being hit and the sound of angry voices getting louder convinced him that the mob was real. He nodded. "Yes, I'll come."_

_The scene outside his door convinced him that he had made the right decision. A dozen NYPD officers penned back a crowd of people he recognised as neighbours and some he didn't. Their shouts turned into an angry bray as he left the house and he was almost glad when the door of the police car closed on him and drove him away from the scene._

* * *

"So, you don't remember the name of the diner you ate in, you don't remember the route you took and you don't remember doing anything during your walk that could verify your whereabouts." Detective Tutuola summed up the information gleaned during the five hour interrogation. "O.K. let's go over the route you took again."

"We've been over this three times already, Detective." Harold said, wearily. "I just walked. I was still pre-occupied with the case I'm working on so I didn't take any notice of my surroundings until I reached the Park. By that time, my back and leg were telling me I needed a rest so I picked up the cab home. You've already confirmed that with the driver. Instead of wasting your time talking to me, you should be out there, looking for whoever really did kill Kirsty!"

He had to give these police officers points for their persistence. Apart from a short period when he had been left alone while they checked out the cab ride, they had been going over and over the same ground ever since he got here. He knew the basic principles involved. They were trying to get him to commit to a story which they could then check out for inconsistencies. They had asked him for his cell phone and he had handed over the one he used in his Burdett persona without argument. Burdett was not exactly at the forefront of the technological revolution and his cell was a basic model capable of little more than sending and receiving calls and texts. There was nothing on it which could raise any red flags and no way they could track him on GPS through it. He felt the other cell, still in his pocket and wondered how much charge was left in its battery. Even when they had left him alone he had suspected they were still watching him through the one-way mirror so he had remained in character, unable to talk to John or even check on the battery life.

He considered, not for the first time, refusing to answer any more of their questions and just getting up and leaving. As a paralegal, Norman Burdett knew that they could not hold him unless they arrested him and he also knew they did not have anything like enough for an arrest. What had prevented him so far was what would happen once he left the Precinct. He could not return to the house he used as Burdett but he couldn't go to the Library or one of his other properties either in case they decided to put a tail on him. Harold had no doubts he could lose a tail, if required; he'd had a lot of practice after all. The problem came after that, if they put out an A.P.B. that would limit his freedom of movement, not to mention increase their suspicions.

If they didn't let him go shortly, however, he would be forced down that route. He was in a Catch-22 situation. He couldn't provide himself with an alibi for the period in question until he'd created it using the resources at the Library, or at least a laptop. And he couldn't get access to those resources until he was out of this place. Add to that, he was getting thirsty. The Detectives had offered him a soda when they had brought him in but he had refused thinking it was more a ploy to obtain his fingerprints than out of any concern for this well-being. His prints weren't on file anywhere and he preferred keeping it that way.

The door to the interrogation room opened and Detective Benson popped her head round. "Nick, Fin, can I have a word please?"

Both detectives looked at each other before filing out.

"Think hard while we're gone, Norman. Try to remember something." Amaro advised as his parting shot.

Harold waited to see what would happen now. It did not seem like the detectives had been expecting the interruption. His patience was rewarded a few minutes later when the door opened to reveal what he hoped was his salvation.

He kept his face straight, however as he heard the words. "Hello, Mr Burdett. Do you remember me? I'm Detective Carter. I interviewed you about the evidence locker heist."

**T.B.C. **


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this story.

Evenmoore - your wish is granted!Afalstein - I know it's slow. We will have some action but it will be later in the story.

I'm sorry for the delay in posting, unfortunately I'm a slow writer and the need to actually work for a living doesn't help either. I will be working on a new chapter of Art of Interest next so it will probably we a couple of weeks before I update this one again.

As usual - nothing worth any money belongs to me.

**Tangled Webs**

**Chapter 3**

**Reese's P.O.V.**

John Reese walked slowly down the street with a leashed Bear padding beside him. There were advantages to dog ownership he hadn't thought of when he had acquired the Belgian Malinois, he mused. When you were out with a dog not even the most suspicious person thought to question what you were doing as the answer seemed self evident.

He took in his surroundings. The houses, although probably pre First World War, were well built, well maintained and appeared to be single occupancy. In short, it looked like the sort of established middle class, low crime neighbourhood that a paralegal would live in. No wonder then that the brutal murder of a teenage girl had caused the shock and anger it had. He was relieved to see that there was police activity throughout the area, searching through trash bags, litter bins, in dark corners, anywhere that evidence could have been concealed and that they were not just concentrating on 'Burdett's' place. It indicated that the SVU were keeping an open mind about Harold's guilt. This Detective Benson seemed both competent and thorough; of course he would not have expected anything else from a friend of Carter's.

He continued to listen in to Harold's interrogation through his earwig. While this provided him with a degree of reassurance it was also frustrating. Harold was a lot tougher than his appearance or manner indicated and it was clear that he was holding his own. But, as he had told Carter earlier, the sound quality was poor. The cell was presumably secreted somewhere about Harold's person and sound was muffled by his clothing, while the voices of the detectives became almost inaudible if they moved away from the microphone. Another cause of frustration came from knowing what needed to be done to get Harold out but not having the expertise to manufacture the electronic trail required. He was a competent computer user but lacked Harold's artistry at bending the digital world to his needs.

He and Bear came up to the 'Burdett' house. They stopped to watch the activity. The mob had disappeared; although a few rubberneckers still hung around, gaping at the detectives and uniformed officers walking up and down the steps. He noticed the window boxes and wondered, in passing, who watered the plants when Harold was away.

Bear whined, picking up faint traces of his co-owner's scent "Don't worry, Bear. Harold will be back soon." John muttered, trying to reassure himself as much as the dog.

There was no point in hanging around, he was certain that the police would find nothing to arouse their suspicions in the house. The sort of security precautions the CIA spent hundreds of thousands of dollars indoctrinating into their trainees were second nature to the mysterious Mr Finch. He wondered, briefly, not for the first time, what experiences had made his partner that way. Whatever they were, his precautions were so instinctive, they probably dated back to his childhood.

John pulled himself together, he was a professional. He needed to concentrate on the job in hand. He walked on round the corner. He spotted Fusco sitting in his car immediately and made his way over, opening the rear door to allow Bear to jump in before sliding into the passenger seat.

Fusco gave Bear a suspicious look. "I've just had the interior valeted. He'd better not make a mess back there or chew up the upholstery."

"And, hello to you too, Lionel. Don't worry. He's at least as house-trained as you are." John replied. It never hurt to keep the formerly dirty cop a little off balance during their meetings.

After a short pause while he digested the insult, the burly detective asked. "So, what has Mr Good News got himself into now?"

John ignored the question. "I hope you got the name of the witness who saw Finch talk with the girl like I asked."

"Yeah, Mitchell Connors. Aged thirty-nine; recently divorced; lives with his mother at 221. What you gonna' do, beat him up until he retracts? What do you need me here for?"

"Does he have a record?"

"No. Works as an Assistant Departmental Manager at Macy's, coaches little league, volunteers for Church charity drives. A real upright citizen."

"Everyone's got a dirty little secret, _Detective_." John replied. "You, of all people should know that."

Fusco looked slightly uncomfortable at the pointed reminder. "You think the Professor was deliberately framed because of what you guys get up to?" He asked. "Because, take it from me, if it was a frame, whoever's behind it did a lousy job."

"I bow to your expert knowledge on the subject and I _know_ Finch was framed. And you and I am going to find out who and why." John replied calmly, but with an undercurrent that made Fusco immensely glad that he was not the framer.

"So, what do we do now?" He asked.

"I am going to have a talk with Mr Connors. You are going to run interference with your colleagues making sure none of them interfere."

"How am I gonna' do that?" Fusco protested.

Reese gave the detective an ironic look. "I'm sure you'll think of something Lionel. I can't do everything for you.

Fusco looked a little worried as he asked his next question. "What I said before, you planning on working Connors' over?"

John gave him a hard stare. "Just concentrate on doing the job I've given you right and let me do mine."

The detective sighed as he gave in. "Give me a few minutes before you knock on Connors' door." He clambered out of the car and John watched him as he marched round the corner towards the 'Burdett' residence.

* * *

John rang the bell before turning to survey the street. Harold's house was across the street to the right. The angle was too narrow for it to be seen from the top of the steps. He experimented and discovered that it came into view from the third step from the bottom downwards. The door opened and a fresh-faced, handsome man stood framed in the doorway. If this was Mitchell Connor's he looked younger than his thirty-nine years. Perhaps it was living right that did it – if he was living right, of course.

"Yes?" The smile was wide and seemed genuinely welcoming.

John walked back up the steps. "Detective Stills." He flashed the badge he had recovered from Stills' body. "Mitchell Connor?"

The other man glanced down at the badge, his expression confused. "Yeah, that's me. I thought you told me we'd finished for today and I was to come downtown tomorrow to make a formal statement?"

John smiled briefly. "Yeah, that was SVU, they're investigating the sex crime aspect. I'm homicide." He shrugged. "You know what it's like in the public sector, bureaucracy run wild. Gotta get the same information direct from you or the lawyers will have a field day!"

"Oh, well, come in." Connors' stood back to allow John to enter.

"You live alone here?" he asked, looking around as he was ushered through the hallway into a roomy kitchen/breakfast room at the back of the house, overlooking a well tended garden.

"No. This is my mother's place. I've been staying with her since my divorce. Just temporarily until I get my finances back on track, you know. She's visiting my aunt in Florida this week."

Reese smiled. His aim now was to create a relationship with the subject. "I know what you mean. Divorce, it's an occupational hazard for cops, even more than getting shot these days. When my wife kicked me out, I stayed with my sister, brother-in-law and their kids for over a year. Nearly drove me crazy! Fortunately we didn't have kids so that wasn't a problem. You have kids?"

"Sandra didn't kick me out. We separated by mutual consent. It just wasn't working out!"

John noted that the statement seemed to be delivered with more force than warranted. He filed it away for future consideration. Connors' took a deep breath and steadied himself. "Sit down, Detective. Coffee?" He asked.

"No, thanks. I'd better just get on with the questions and then get out of your hair." He took out a notebook he'd bought from a stationary store earlier in the day and clicked his pen. "So, if you could take it from the top?"

Connors paused, putting his thoughts in order. "I was closing the drapes in the living room which overlooks the street at about ten o'clock last night and I saw Kirsty walking past. I thought she was on her way home. She lives a coupla houses down on this side of the street. As I was watching Burdett came walking from the opposite direction. He stopped and they spoke. I put the trash out only a few minutes later and they'd both disappeared. I didn't think anything about it at the time. People round here actually talk to their neighbours, not like in other parts of the city! But, when I heard 'bout what happened, I thought, well, I gotta tell someone."

"How did Kirsty seem during the conversation?"

Connors' considered. "Well, like I said I didn't notice anything odd at the time but, now I think about it, she was a little tense, worried. And Burdett, have you seen him? I've always thought he was a bit of a wimp, you know? But that night, he seemed, I don't know – scary."

John tamped down his immediate reaction that the man was lying. It wasn't unknown for witnesses to sub-consciously interpret facts to suit their pre-conceptions. Instead, he asked. "It must have been dark at that time of night, especially if you were pulling the drapes. How could you see them that clearly to make out their expressions?"

Connors' nodded. "It was dark but they were standing directly under the streetlight just outside and it wasn't so much their expressions. It was their body language, you know?"

John made a note. "Thanks for clarifying that. Now, I understand that it was you who went and told people that Burdett had killed Kirsty, despite being asked by SVU not to talk to anyone. Why'd you do that?

"Like I said before, have you seen the guy? He looks like a perv. Little pebble glasses, that funny way he walks? And he's real strange. Doesn't mix much and you never see him for days on end. When you do talk to him he's polite enough but he talks funny, like a book. I teach little league and I always warn the kids to watch out for people like that. I wanted to warn everyone else with kids to make sure they were safe with him around."

Reese fought back his anger. This man knew nothing about Harold and had made assumptions that could have got him killed or seriously injured. He felt sorry for the kids in his charge if they were relying solely on him for safety advice. The fact that the man was an asshole, however, didn't mean he was also a murderer and a rapist.

"Well, I think that's all for now." He said, snapping his notebook shut. "Thank you for your time, sir."

"Anything to help the pol…" The doorbell rang. "Excuse me." Connors rose and walked back down the hall, closely followed by John.

Connors opened the door. Standing outside was a fair haired woman with a gold detective shield hanging from the belt of her pants and behind her loomed the rather more substantial figure of Detective Lionel Fusco. John cursed inwardly and made a note to speak very strongly to Fusco later.

Aloud he said, "Thank you for your time, Mr Connors." and pushed past out of the door, giving a friendly nod to the two detectives as he passed them.

He went down the steps as fast as he could without causing suspicion, leaving Fusco to cover for him if necessary. The man deserved to sweat a little for failing in his task. As he walked down the street, he stopped to note the street lamp nearest to the Collins' home. It was on the same side of the street. He looked up; the light had been smashed and was clearly incapable of working. He checked the locations of the other streetlights on both sides of the street, just to be sure. Collins would have been unable to see them from his window.

He walked on, making a mental note to get Carter or Fusco to check when the damage had occurred. Things might be looking up for Harold if it had happened before Collins said he had seen him talking to Kirsty under it. Of course, if that were the case, things were very definitely not looking good for Mr. Mitchell Collins.

T.B.C.


	4. Chapter 4

Here's the next chapter. I apologise that it's shorter than previous ones. I've been trying an experiment of having each chapter told from the point of view of a different character but it's leading to chapters of different lengths and I think it's also slowing down the story. What do you think? Should I continue or change the way I'm telling the story?

**WARNING **– there is some sex related discussion contained in this chapter but nothing that would be out of place in an L&O:SVU episode.

Thanks, as ever, to everyone whose made this a favourite or a story alert. Special thanks to all the people who have reviewed.

Enjoy!

**Tangled Webs**

**Chapter 4**

**Detective Lionel Fusco's POV**

Fusco strode into the Burdett residence, his gold detective's shield prominently displayed on his breast pocket. The smashed window to the side of the front door told him that Glasses had definitely had a narrow escape. Avoiding the activity of the uniforms going through the place, he looked around with interest. Here was an opportunity to get one up on Mr Tall, Dark and Fearsome by learning something about his mysterious associate that even he didn't know. The décor was old-fashioned, the furniture well upholstered and somewhat faded, knickknacks covered every available surface. The overall impression was one of fussiness, a big contrast to the Professor's safe-house where he and Carter had holed up with the Mafia dons. He wondered if this was Finch's genuine taste or whether he was simply getting into the groove of his cover. He was sure the books, at least, although they didn't look like light reading, were a genuine expression of who the man was. Despite his mastery of the digital world, he gave off the vibe of someone who enjoyed reading for both information and pleasure.

"Who the hell are you?" asked a female voice with a pronounced southern accent from behind him.

He turned to see a blond haired woman wearing a gold shield on the belt of her pants glaring at him. "Lionel Fusco, Homicide Task Force. I'm Detective Carter's partner." He stuck out his hand.

The woman looked him up and down suspiciously. "I heard that Olivia Benson had asked your partner for help interrogating Burdett but no-one said anything 'bout you coming over."

Fusco gave his most conciliatory smile. "Ain't that the NYPD for you, no-one communicates anymore." Seeing that it wasn't working and guessing at the cause of the other detective's suspicions, he went on. "I'm just here to see if anything turns up 'bout the Evidence Locker heist. We've still got an open homicide case on the two dead robbers. We're not muscling in on your investigation."

The woman looked somewhat mollified at this. She took his hand, briefly. "Amanda Rollins, SVU." She introduced herself.

Fusco indicated the activity around them. "So, find anything?"

"Nothin' helping you. You're welcome to look round yourself. We've almost finished up." Rollins replied.

Fusco felt fear knife through him at the implications of this statement. He kept it out of his voice, however, and his tone was professional, just one detective casually talking shop with a colleague. He was good at lying, after all. "So, Burdett's your doer then?"

Detective Rollin shook her head. "Jury's still out. We think the ligature used to strangle Kirsty was something like a necktie so we've taken the ones we found for testing. We've checked the bed linen for semen stains but the guy's a monk. There's no sign that he's been sexually active at all. In fact, there's no evidence Kirsty was ever in this house but he could still have killed her elsewhere."

Relieved at the news that the SVU had, so far, found nothing to link Finch to the murder of the kid and absolutely convinced that the seized ties would, likewise, yield no evidence, Fusco heroically refused to allow his imagination to run riot with the images the middle part of Rollins statement were conjuring up. This was one aspect of the Professor's life he had never thought about before.

"Well, it takes all kinds." He replied, vaguely.

"Yeah." Rollins agreed. "We found some pretty strong mediation in his medicine cabinet but they're all legit prescriptions. According to C.S.U. they're painkillers. I guess he suffers from chronic pain."

This was an opening and Fusco took it. "If he's that banged up, could he rape and murder a healthy, sixteen year old kid?"

Rollins shrugged. "We don't know that she was forcibly raped." She pointed out before nodding towards the book lined study where a technician was hunched over a desktop computer. "TARU are just finishing up with his computer. He seems to have used it purely for work related stuff. No visits to social media or porn sites, no downloads, no encrypted data. Hell, he doesn't even seem to have played games on it!"

This did not surprise Fusco. It was further proof of how ingrained Finch's paranoia was. Aloud he said. "Does your warrant cover access to information on the cases he's working on then? Judge's don't usually like doing that."

"Don't need a warrant." Rollins replied, laconically. "Burdett gave us permission to search his house and contents. He's a paralegal. He knows he's not covered by the same privilege as real lawyers."

If Finch was laid back about the police searching his place he must be confident there was nothing incriminating to find, Fusco mused. He looked round. "So, this seems a big house just for one guy." He said to keep the conversation going. After all, he was here to keep the SVU busy while Mr Sunshine talked (and hopefully that was all the guy planned to do) with the witness. "How come he can afford it? Paralegal's ain't that well paid."

"Yeah. We wondered that too, so we checked. Seems he inherited it from a distant relative 'bout three years back." She looked round. "Doesn't look like he's been able to afford to redecorate though."

That got Fusco's attention. Maybe he was going to get some genuine background on Mystery Man. "Who was the relative, an elderly maiden aunt?"

"Great Aunt. Miss Amelia Golden. He's got all the documents in the cabinet over there. I guess it comes from being a paralegal."

Fusco filed the information away for future reference. He grinned. "Or O.C.D."

As they had been speaking the TARU technician had printed out something on the computer and closed it down. He approached, Amanda Rollins, holding out the print. "Detective, this is the most boring computer I have ever checked out. His e-mails are all business related and his internet activity is confined to Westlaw and other law related sites. I printed off the activity log for the computer over the last 48 hours. As you can see, there's nothing non-work related at all."

"Some would say that's suspicious in itself." Rollins said as she took the offered paper and scanned it. She frowned. "That's interesting." She said, slowly.

Fusco's highly tuned danger sensor went on alert. "What's that?" He asked.

"Burdett's been saying that he'd been workin' on a case and that's why he didn't eat until after ten but the last time he used the computer was at just before seven to file some papers with Marmostein Ribner."

Fusco shrugged. "So, he could have been using these." He waved his hand at the heavy legal tomes covering the walls.

Rollins frowned. "Maybe, but he would have made notes and we didn't turn up any during the search. So, if he wasn't working on a case, what was he doing?"

And things had been going so well, Fusco thought. He needed to try to derail this line of thought. He shrugged. "So, he was playing hookey. It doesn't make him a killer. Maybe he's stiffing Marmostein Ribner on his hours!"

"Could be, but it still means he lied, and if he lied about one thing, what else could he be lying about?" Rollins asked.

"Come on, Rollins! He'd hardly be the first person to pad his hours!"

"True." The other detective acknowledged. "But why didn't he tell us the truth? He must know we wouldn't be likely to check on whether he was billing his boss for the time."

Fusco shrugged again. "From what Carter's tells me, he seems like the sort of guy who's scared of his own shadow." He desperately hoped that this conversation never got back to Finch. He could imagine the glare and cutting remark he would receive.

Rollins ignored him. "Mr Connors seems like the local snoop. I think I'll have a word with him 'bout Burdett's general activities before I go back to the Precinct."

Fusco felt his heart sink. The Sunshine Man would NOT be happy.

He watched as Rollins made for the door.

As she reached it, she turned back to him. "You coming, Fusco?" She asked.

'In for a penny…' the pudgy Detective thought. "After you." He said.

* * *

**45 minutes later **

Fusco walked back to his car. He was depressed, but not surprised to see his nemesis leaning against it, Bear standing beside him on his leash. At least, he can't kill me or set the dog on me in a public place, he consoled himself. Then he amended the thought, of course he could. I just have to hope he won't!

"Can't I trust you to do even the simplest job, Lionel?" Reese drawled, when he came alongside.

"Hey, it's not my fault, O.K.? Rollins caught your boss out in a lie. She's real police, my friend, so, even though it's not directly connected to the case, she wanted to follow it up. You were lucky I was there to run interference for you!"

"So, what happened after I left?"

"She asked Connors who you were. He didn't remember what name you gave but he did remember you said you were a cop and showed him a badge to prove it. I had to say that you were with the Homicide Task and we were trying to muscle in on the case despite what I'd told her earlier. She's royally pissed off with me and Carter!"

"I'm sure you will bear her displeasure with your usual sang-froid. What's this lie that Harold allegedly told?"

"You mean apart from his name's not really Norman Burdett, he's really a kickass computer hacker instead of a meek and mild paralegal and he wasn't taking a walk when the murder went down?"

"Lionel!" Reese's voice had steel in it.

"O.K., O.K. He told the cops that he had been working up to the time he left the house but his computer shows no sign of use after seven o'clock and there's no evidence he was looking up stuff in the legal books he keeps in there. She asked Connors 'bout the hours our guy keeps and he told her the house lights weren't lit at night for days, sometimes as long as a week at a time and he'd seen Finch leave the house at odd hours several times."

"There's nothing illegal about any of that." Reese commented.

"No, but it's got her cop senses working overtime. Look I gotta warn Carter. When Rollins tells them we're trying to muscle in on their case the atmosphere over at SVU is gonna turn glacial."

"Fine." Reese said. "The street light where Connors said he saw Harold and Kirsty talking is smashed. Find out when it happened and let me know."

"Does it matter? Glasses has already said he did speak to her."

"It's called doing a thorough investigation, Detective. You should try it some time.

Fusco watched as the Man in a Suit, his dog at his side walked away. He took out his cell and hit Carter's number on speed dial.

T.B.C.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks, once again, to everyone whose read this story, made it a favourite or added it to their story alerts. As usual, special mentions to those who have taken the time to review – Afalstein, W.S.C. Magica De Spell, lucy (Guest) (Sorry but neither Shaw nor Leon will be appearing – but Leon does get a mention!), big ethel (Guest) and Fi Suki Saki (at least I have ben able to meet one of your requests!).

Just a warning to say that there are references to sexual activities in this chapter but nothing that would be out of place in an SVU episode.

Cheers all!

**Tangled Webs**

**Chapter 5**

**SVU Interrogation Room**

"Hello, Mr Burdett. Do you remember me? I'm Detective Carter. I interviewed you about the evidence locker heist."

No trace of the relief he felt flickered across Harold's face as he replied. "Yes, I remember you, Detective Carter." He said, non-committedly.

Joss took a chair and placed it close to him at a right angle. She sat down and leaned in close. To an observer it would appear that she was creating an atmosphere of intimacy but Harold noticed that her body was now partially covering the line of sight between the window and himself.

"So, tell me what happened?" She said, conversationally.

Harold turned to face her and moved his chair forward. It was the natural thing to do. Even the most suspicious detective, no doubt watching through the mirror/window, would be unlikely to see any significance in the action, yet the movement took him even further into the blind spot. "I presume you already know, Detective." he said, frostily. "Your colleagues seem to think I…I raped and killed someone."

Joss nodded. "Kirsty Mangano. Did you?" She leaned even closer and opened her hand to reveal her cell.

Harold glanced down and read the message on the screen.

'_John and Fusco are investigating._ _How can I help?' _

Careful to disguise his movements, he pulled his own cell from his pocket and began typing. He noted that the low battery warning was showing and felt relief that the cavalry had arrived. "No I did not!" He said out loud. "You people should be out there finding out who really did kill her, not wasting your time with me!"

Joss kept her position, continuing to hide his hands as he typed. "So, this has nothing to do with the Evidence Locker heist? You see, I think Elias knows you saw or heard something that implicates him and this is his way of sending you a message, discrediting you as a witness, maybe even getting you out of the way, permanently. A lot of unpleasant things can happen to a guy like you in lock-up or at Riker's."

Harold's fingers continued to nimbly fly across the touch screen keyboard as he replied. "Please do not attempt to threaten me, Detective." He said, coldly. "I am a paralegal, I know the law. You do not have any basis on which to arrest me. I am here voluntarily and I could get up and walk out any time I like." He finished the text and showed it to Joss.

'_Can you get me transferred to your custody as a material witness to the heist? I'll provide you with a rationale."_

"That's not going to wash, Norman." Joss replied harshly, her eyes showing she was responding to both his spoken and written words. "If you could walk outa here, why haven't you?" She pitched her voice softer, gentler. "Is it because you're scared of Elias or is it that you really did kill Kirsty and part of you wants to confess?"

Harold began typing again as he answered. "Or, perhaps it's because of the lynch mob who attacked my home and damaged my propery, Detective Carter. A mob the NYPD either could not or did not want to control!" Aware of the watchers behind the window, he pitched his voice to the petulant whine of the little man caught up in events beyond his control. It was not the first time he had played on his appearance and it would, almost certainly, not be the last. He displayed the cell screen again.

'_The battery is almost exhausted. This cell won't last for much longer. Tell John to get hold of Zoe Morgan and Leon Tao. They can create a false alibi for me. Money no object.' _He did not want to bring them into this mess but he was running out of options. He winced as he considered the ways in which Leon could rip him off but trusted Mr Reese to keep him, somewhat, under control.

"Norman," Joss' voice was soothing. "If you're afraid of what Elias might do if he finds out you've talked to us, we can protect you." She reached out and took his hand in an apparently supportive gesture.

"What I want, Detective Carter; is for the police to do their job and find Kirsty's killer so I can go home without the fear of being assaulted by my neighbours." Harold wrenched his hand free. A hand that was now empty, his nearly dead cell now safely concealed in Joss' hand.

Joss sat back, letting her hands slide under the table. "OK. So, tell me about Kirsty. What was your relationship with her?"

Harold sighed, "As I explained to the other detectives, I did not have any relationship with her. We spoke occasionally when we happened to meet on the street. That is all."

"You spoke to her the night she was attacked and killed. How did she seem, what was her mood?"

Harold considered. It was a subject area the other detectives hadn't covered. He opened his mouth to reply but the sound of Joss' ring tone interrupted him. The Homicide Detective glanced down and her face took on an irritated look.

"Sorry, gotta take this." She listened for a moment and then closed her eyes for a brief moment before saying. "O.K. Fusco. I'll deal. You get on to the other thing."

Her voice and manner was now tense and Harold was wondering what the other detective had said when the door to the interrogation room crashed open. Detective Tutuola stood framed in the doorway. He looked extremely angry, but his anger seemed directed at Detective Carter, not at him.

"Detective, Captain Cragen wants to speak to you, NOW."

His body language and tone of voice confirmed Harold's suspicions and he bit back the fear that Carter's surreptitious communication with him had, somehow, been discovered.

Joss looked towards him. Her eyes were calm and unsurprised. Clearly she was expecting this and Harold surmised that this development was related to Detective Fusco's telephone call.

"I'll be back, Norman." She promised.

Harold watched as Joss left the room without a backwards glance. Tutuola strode forward, picked up the chair recently vacated by Detective Carter and nearly threw it out of the way. He stood close, looming over Harold. Detective Amaro followed him into the room and stood directly behind Harold. Both were deliberately violating his personal space. Out of nowhere, a photograph of Kirsty's dead body, still partially covered by overflowing garbage bags was thrown down on the table. Harold looked at it and wished he hadn't. He swallowed down the bile that forced its way into his throat and forced himself to listen to Detective Amaro's voice coming from behind him.

"Did you enjoy raping Kirsty and then throwing her body out with the rest of the trash, Norm?"

Detective Tutuola cut in. "Naw, maybe we got this guy wrong. Maybe he has problems in the performance department. I bet when he creeps outa the house at night or disappears for days on end he's hangin' out at strip-joints." He directed his next comment to Harold. "Or are you one of those who prefers a stack of porn and a quiet room someplace?" He asked.

Harold clamped his lips together and stared straight ahead, trying to ignore the photograph and the taunts. He knew that the gloves were now off and they were trying to needle him into making a mistake. He drew on his reserves and hoped that Detective Carter could get his message through to John.

* * *

**Captain Cragen's Office**

Joss walked in to the office. Captain Cragen was sitting behind his desk. He looked angry, as well he might. Olivia stood in the corner, a look of betrayal on her face. Joss felt like a complete jerk for causing this breach with her old friend but forced down the feeling. After all, she told herself, the Homicide Task Force was not really trying to take over this case and Harold _was_ really innocent. It did not make her feel any better. Harold's cell felt like it was burning through her jacket pocket.

"Why did the H.T.F. send someone to interview our wit?" Cragen asked. "We had an agreement that this was our case."

Although, technically, everyone in the N.Y.P.D. were working together for a common end, Joss knew that, actually, they were very territorial and the very worse thing any Unit could do was to try to try to muscle in on another Unit's case.

She frowned. "Look Captain, this is all news to me too. I swear I knew nothing about it until my partner phoned me just now. Have you spoken to my Captain?"

"Not yet." Cragen grudgingly replied. "Olivia says you're good people and wanted me to give you an opportunity to explain."

Joss spread her hands. "It must have happened after I left the Precinct." She said. "Look, this couldn't have come at a worse time. I was starting to form a connection with Burdett and now I'll have to start all over again. And this time, it's gonna be more difficult. Your guys looked like they were going in strong when I left and that's gonna make him more scared and suspicious."

"Hum. Stay here while I phone your Captain." Cragen ordered. He picked up the phone. "Max, what the hell are you playing at? – You trying to take over the Mangano case – what did you think I was talkin' about?"

He listened for several minutes, occasionally asking a question or making a comment. When he put down the receiver, he looked confused. "Your Captain's given his word that the Taskforce isn't getting involved in the case." He reported.

This was what Joss had expected. "I guess Fusco got mixed up with some other case." She said. "He's never been good at keeping up with his admin. I'm glad we got it sorted though."

"Yes, but if the so called Detective who spoke to Mr Connor wasn't from your Taskforce, then who was he?" Cragen asked.

"Probably a journalist." She said. "You know how those sharks are. Can I get back to interviewing Burdett now?"

Cragen leant back. "Leave it to Tutuola and Amaro for the moment. You're gonna have plenty of time to re-build your rapport with him later. If they can't get a confession or an alibi outa him, the A.D.A. has agreed we can hold Mr Burdett as a material witness.

Joss tried to hide her shock.

* * *

**Home of Ellen O'Neil **

John rang the bell and the door was opened by a pleasant but harassed looking woman who was wiping her hands on a tea towel.

"Yes, can I help you?" She asked.

He flashed his gold badge again and smiled. "Detective Stills, Mam. Are you Mrs Ellen Connor?"

The woman frowned. "I was but I went back to using my own name after I divorced so it's Ellen O'Neil now. Is something wrong with Mitchell? Has he been hurt?"

"He's fine." John said, reassuringly. "But he's become a potential witness in an investigation we're conducting. There's nothing to worry about but I have to do some checking into his background for the D.A." He shrugged. "It's just routine."

"Oh, OK. Come in." Ms O'Neil said. She led him into a small sitting room, the floor of which was covered in toys and invited him to sit down before disappearing to return moments later carrying a small child. "I'm sorry. I hope you don't mind. I can't leave Danny alone for a moment. He's at that age when he gets into everything." She put the child down. Danny immediately proved the truth of her statement by balancing, precariously, on his feet and staggering towards the coffee table, where he proceeded to pick up a magazine and try to eat it.

Ellen dived out of her seat and re-captured him. "No, honey. Paper's no good to eat." She picked up a fluffy toy and gave it him. "Here, play with Bunny." She said. She looked towards John. "He's also teething." She apologised.

John smiled. "He looks like a great kid." He said. "Is he yours and Mitchell's or are you just minding him for the day?"

"No, he's ours." She grimaced slightly. "Mostly mine. Mitchell seems to think his paternal responsibility ends with paying child support. He got joint custody but usually finds an excuse when it's his turn to have Danny. He's probably waiting till he's out of diapers and old enough to play ball. Looking after kid's Danny's age involves too much hard work for Mitchell's taste." She grimaced again. "Sorry, I try not to sound like the standard bitter ex-wife." She apologised again. "Now, how can I help?"

John launched into his prepared cover story. He did not expect to learn anything to help Harold, but at least it gave him the illusion he was doing something and it was better than hanging round the Library waiting for Carter and Fusco to report.

"As I said, Ms O'Neil, Mitchell has become a potential witness to a serious felony and the D.A. wants his background checked out just in case there's anything there the defence can use to discredit his testimony. Obviously we've asked Mitchell himself, but people often don't tell us things they find embarrassing or which reflect badly on them. We don't want this guy to get away with his crime just because Mr Connor didn't tell us something he should have."

Ellen shrugged. "Well, Mitchell wouldn't be in the short running for any Father of the Year Award, but nothing else comes to mind."

John grinned, slightly "Yeah, I guessed that from what you said before." He paused. "Forgive me for asking but why did you and he divorce?"

Danny chose that moment to throw down Bunny and try to stage an escape from the sofa. Ellen turned to restrain him but the ex-CIA man did not miss the expression that briefly crossed her face.

"Irretrievable breakdown in our marriage." She responded, briefly.

John guessed from her earlier reaction that there was more to this story and pressed. "That describes how your marriage ended but not how it got there." He observed.

Ellen gave a harsh bark of a laugh. "I guess that's true. Let's just say that the realities of a pregnant wife and then caring for a small baby weren't what he expected and Mitchell wasn't emotionally ready for it."

There was a sub-text here and John leaned forward. "He beat you, tried to hurt Danny?"

"No, nothing like that! He just…withdrew. He was never here. There was always an excuse, problems at work, meetings but…"

John recognised a familiar pattern. "There was someone else?" He asked, gently.

Ellen nodded. "Some barely legal little slut who didn't have a body that looked like a balloon and who wasn't always tired after coping with Danny all day." She confirmed, then shrugged. "I'm not exactly the first wife that's happened to and if the testimony of every guy who'd two-timed his wife was discredited on that basis, well you'd get hardly any convictions. Am I right?"

John suddenly wanted to get out of the house. Ellen's words had opened up a new line of investigation. He smiled. "I know a lot of good husbands and fathers. Please don't judge all men by the actions of just one." He urged. He got up out of his chair. "Well, thanks for your time, Ms O'Neil. You've been very helpful."

He allowed himself to be shown out and, as soon as the door was closed behind him, he made his way back to his car. He had an appointment, although the person the appointment was with did not know it yet.

T.B.C.


End file.
